


Communication

by Unforth



Series: Tumblr Ficlets: Supernatural [62]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, Implied Incest, Implied Twincest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mentally Ill Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 09:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10761768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Tumblr ficlet written to the prompt: Jimmy and Castiel doing something mundane together, and Dean watching fondly and being so in love.Happy birthday, ltleflrt!





	Communication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ltleflrt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ltleflrt/gifts).



> The past couple weeks, I've taken prompts for short fics and written and posted them on Tumblr. I wanted to post them on AO3 as well but have been considering how best to do so. A quick survey of my subscribers and followers suggests that people would prefer if I post them all as individual stories and put them in a series together instead of as multiple chapters on the same file or any other of several options, so that's what I'm doing.
> 
> Please note that I generally do not take "out of nowhere" prompts, cause I don't have time, but I will sometimes ask people to send me ideas and I'll write them in the order I receive them. 
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).
> 
> Make sure you read the prompt! 
> 
>  
> 
> [~original post~](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/160122785508/prompt-jimmy-and-castiel-doing-something-mundane)
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt, from Ltleflrt:  
> Prompt: Jimmy and Castiel doing something mundane together, and Dean watching fondly and being so in love.
> 
> Happy birthday, hun!

“Cassie, there’s flour on your nose,” said Jimmy, point a batter-coated hand toward Cas’ face.

“I’m sure there is,” Cas replied dryly. “And there’ll likely be a lot more on my face before we finish. It’s no big deal.”

“No big _deal_?” Jimmy managed ‘mock scandalized’ like a pro, drawing back, putting a hand to his mouth and pantomiming being utterly, completely aghast. “You _heathen_ , who are you and what you done with my brother?”

“You know these cookies won’t bake themselves,” grumbled Cas.

“That’s true,” said Jimmy. “Dean!”

Standing in the kitchen doorway, Dean jumped. He’d only stuck his head into let them know he was back with their sandwiches for lunch - the twins had earned a break from Christmas baking - but they’d been so _endearing_  that he hadn’t been able to…but now they were both staring at him. Fucking hell. Coughing to clear his throat and definitely _not_  to clear away his embarrassment, Dean turned in on a heel back toward the living room.

“The cookies’ll wait,” he grimaced. “Soups on, boys!”

He stalked across the room.

Dammit, how did Jimmy and Cas always make him feel so…feel so…

How did they always make him _feel_?

The Panera bag sat where he’d left it on the low coffee table. Dropping to a squat to leave the couch open for Jimmy and Cas to sit on, Dean unpacked it. Only one of them actually had soup - Dean had gotten tomato soup with grilled cheese for his meal - and the twins had each gotten sandwiches. Laying them out, Dean berated himself, for being caught staring, for being a fool, for being such a sap and being head over heels in love with his roommates, with _both_  his roommates, when one person was enough for, like, every other person on the damn planet.

_No, that’s not true, I know it’s not, polyamory is a thing…_

_…but it’s not that simple._

Of course it wasn’t that simple. Nothing was _ever_  that simple.

“Sometime this _year_  guys…” Dean trailed off mid-shout, turning toward the doorway leading to the kitchen.

Both twins stood, framed in the door way, entwined together in order to fit in the narrow space.

Dean startled so hard he lost his balance and fell flat on his ass.

_Real smooth, Dean. Slay ‘um in the aisles. Way to be a heart breaker._

“Oh, there you are,” said Dean gruffly, grabbing the paper container of soup and putting it in his lap in a vain effort to pretend he’d sat down on purpose. “Well, dig in.”

“What’s going on, Dean?” asked Jimmy, wrapping an arm around Cas’ waist.

“Is this because I nixed making rum balls?” Cas added.

“What?” Dean squawked. “No! No, just…just forget about the damn rum balls, and the cookies, and eat your damn sandwiches, will you.”

There was still flour on Cas’ nose.

Fucking hell that was adorable.

Come to notice, there was cookie dough smeared on Jimmy’s cheek.

The desire to lick the confection away was near-overwhelming.

Neither budged.

Dean pointedly jammed the corner of his sandwich into his soup, slopping tomato over the side.

“Dean…”

Dean flinched.

They’d talked to him about communication.

They’d talked to him about trust.

They’d talked to him about openness and understanding.

They’d talked to him about _relationships_.

That Dean _still_  couldn’t give them what they deserved from him simply went to prove how unworthy he was.

Jimmy sighed, but neither twin spoke and the silence stretched out. Dean took a big bite of his sandwich, chewed, and stared at the edge of the coffee table. Looking at them, seeing their disappointment, was agony.

Finally, after an awful lifetime, Jimmy crossed the room, picked up his and Castiel’s sandwiches, and the two went to eat elsewhere in the apartment.

_I had that coming._

Repeat that to himself as he might, Dean could think of little more forlorn than sitting alone in the living room on Christmas Eve, the tree lights winking warmth and cheer, as he ate his sandwich and dreamed of being the man that the twin loves of his life were entitled to.

The next bite of sandwich tasted like ash in his mouth.

With a sigh, Dean rose and carried the debris to the kitchen, poured the soup down the disposer and chucked the sandwich in the trash. Half-creamed butter made a misshapen lump in the Kitchenaid. Dough chilled in the fridge. Several ingredient-smeared flashcards were scattered across the counters. Taking stock of the situation, Dean washed his hands, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

*

“He said he’d do better,” said Jimmy with a sigh.

“I know, but…” Castiel trailed off, shaking his head. There was no need to make excuses for Dean. They both knew _why_  he had issues, knew how through the first two decades of his life, an admission of need, an attempt at clear communication, had been an invitation to abuse instead of an open door to understanding. 

But they’d been through this _exact same sequence_  time and time again. Dean would do something weird, the twins would ask him what was the matter, and he’d clam up. At first, they’d tried to accept that he’d talk when he was ready, because that had been the hallmark of _their_  childhoods, but no. Dean didn’t talk about his problems. Dean bottled them out, filled the bottle and filled the bottle and filled the bottle until it was so far past overflowing that it exploded, and next thing they knew they’d get home to find him smashed, shouting that they should get out because he wasn’t worthy, or furious that they’d forgotten to transfer the laundry, or any of a hundred surface issues overlying the primary issue, that Dean Winchester didn’t know _how_  to use his goddamn words.

“We agreed that if he didn’t…” The regret thick in Jimmy’s voice mirrored that clenching Cas’ chest. 

They couldn’t keep doing this with Dean.

No matter how much they loved in, there was never any progress, never any correction. Nothing they said got through. Dean had said he’d do better, promised to talk to a therapist, sworn to trust them not to hurt him.

He _still_  didn’t trust them.

God that hurt.

“I hate to do this on Christmas Eve,” muttered Cas.

“We can’t keep making excuses for his emotional constipation,” Jimmy replied firmly.

“I know…I know, but…”

Tears pooled in his eyes.

The last thing he wanted to do was break Dean’s heart.

_Maybe, if we spend some time apart…_

Cas knew that wasn’t true. If they sent Dean around now, he’d _never_  trust them. This would be the end.

Something niggled at his senses as he tried to process this momentous decision. It seemed unnecessarily cruel to dump him _now_ , when they lived together, when their families were travelling the next day…

…but there was no such thing as the right time. Castiel’s nose tickled and he rubbed it, rubbed tears from his eyes. There’d never be a _good_  time to shatter all their lives.

Better to get it over with.

“Do you smell cookies?” Jimmy asked abruptly. Castiel frowned and sniffed. The rich smell of caramelizing sugar and heated vanilla filled his nose.

“Yes,” he said. “What…?”

The twins rose simultaneously, hurried down the hall one after the other, stepped into the kitchen. Dean leaned over the oven, hands big with oven mitts as he pulled out a tray of decorated sugar cookies. Flour streaked his brown hair and made white stains on his dark t-shirt. He straightened, set the cookie tray on the counter, and the started with a gasp.

“Shit, I didn’t see you there,” he said. “Uh…get out? Come back in five?”

“No,” said Castiel.

_We’d been about to…we were going to…_

“This can’t wait, Dean.” Jimmy’s voice was over-harsh, a tone Cas recognized as evidence that Jimmy was steeling himself for the worst. If Dean saw the coming danger, he gave no sign, and Cas’ chest ached for him.

“Oh…uh…okay…just…stand there one minute, okay?” Dean implored, expression open and vulnerable. _No, he knows what Jimmy’s tone portends. Oh, Dean_. “Please?”

Jimmy couldn’t bring himself to answer, but he met Dean’s eyes and nodded. Smiling, eyes swimming, Dean pulled out a second tray of cookies and carried both to the small in-kitchen table. Hastily, he tugged his mitts off and pulled the cookies free from the parchment paper, blowing on them and his fingers as he did.

Dean had used cookie cutters to make letters.

Words formed as Dean’s hands flew.

_Sorry I suck at speaking words._

_I love you._

When he was done, he beamed a hopeful expression at the twins.

“It’s not enough, Dean,” said Castiel, words breaking as Dean’s expression wavered.

“I know it’s not,” Dean replied softly. “How could it…how could _I…_ ever be enough?”

“Dammit, Dean,” Jimmy found his courage, found his strength, raised his voice angrily. “We’ve talked about how _manipulative_  it is when you say things like that, and–” 

“But…” Dean interrupted, met each of their eyes desperately, and said in a rush, “But you asked what was up with me. That’s what was up with me. Nothing is bad. Everything is good. Dammit I was standing in the doorway just thinking about how much I _love_  you two bas– …two…two _men_  and I can’t even fucking _handle_  it. I’m trying, okay?” Fumbling at his pocket, Dean pulled out his wallet and chucked it at them. “I’m trying. But…but you do what you gotta do. I’ll be…not here.”

Dean pushed past them out of the room and stalked down the hall, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

“Why’d he give me his wallet?” asked Jimmy blankly, shoving it at Castiel.

Absently, Castiel opened it. In the slot where Dean usually kept his license, complete with the ridiculous picture of himself that he hated, was a new card.

_Dr. Pamela Barnes, LPC_

_Appointment Date: 12/27 Time: 11:00 AM_

“Jimmy…” Castiel breathed, turning the card toward his brother.

“No, Cas, it’s too - I can’t keep…” Jimmy forced a hoarse breath into his lungs, smeared tears across his face. “We have to–”

“He promised to try, and he _is_ ,” Castiel interrupted. He’d nearly let Jimmy talk him into an injustice. He’d not let it slide. “He told us what he’d been thinking that caused us to worry. He showed us this card. He _made an appointment_. Yes, it was manipulative, but he left so we could talk it over alone instead of keeping at us and begging. We told him what he had to do to fix things, and he’s doing it. You do what you want, but I’m staying.”

“I don’t want to go,” admitted Jimmy, deflating. “But this _hurts_ , every time it hurts.”

“I know,” Castiel said, running a soothing hand down Jimmy’s back. “It’s hurts me too. It hurts him too. We’ve all been hurt, but you wanted a show of trust, and you got one. Come on, he’s probably flipping out right now. He needs us.”

“And I need him.”

“So do I.”

Grabbing a plate, Castiel heaped the cookies on it, still hot and soft from the oven, and dragged Jimmy down the hall.

He knocked on Dean’s door.

“Yeah?” Dean’s voice, muffled and hoarse, replied. A moment later he pulled the door open. A suitcase sat open on his bed, half-filled with disorganized clothes. Considering how careful Dean usually was about folding his laundry and caring for his belongings, the disheveled mess was telling.

Castiel held the plate out.

“Cookie?”

For a stunned moment, Dean looked at the words Castiel had made on the plate.

 _We love you_.

Then he did something Castiel had never seen Dean do in all the years they’d known him, all the months they’d been together.

Dean broke down and sobbed, collapsed in on himself with a full-bodied tremble that drove him to the ground. Jimmy and Cas were beside him instantly, cookies shattering into pieces as Cas dropped the plate. Dean was more important than cookies, more important than Christmas. Holding him, comforting him, whispering endearments in his ears, Cas hoped he’d have a lifetime more opportunities to demonstrate to Dean how much they cared for and trusted him.

They still had a long way to go.

But this - this was _progress_.

Finally.

Thank God.

“We’re gonna be alright,” he whispered. “Dean, you’re going to be alright.”

“Thank you,” Dean gasped through his tears. “Thank you for believing in me. Without you guys, I wouldn’t…I’d never…”

“We know,” Cas promised, petting through his ears. “We–”

“I _know_  you know,” Dean interrupted, surprisingly harshly. “But I’m _going to tell you anyway_. That’s what I promised, and it’s what you deserve, and it’s what _I_ deserve, and it’s what I’m going to do. Okay?”

“Yeah, Dean, that’s okay.”

“Dean…that’s great.”

They didn’t get any more baking done that day.

There was no way Castiel was letting go of Jimmy, no way he was letting go of Dean.

_We can make this work. Together, we can._

_I love them both so much I can’t stand it._

_I’m so glad Dean is trying to get better._

_I’m so glad we’re all trying to get better._

_Together_.


End file.
